


Makeshift

by gonattsaga



Series: I lygternes skær [1]
Category: Blinkende lygter | Flickering Lights (2000)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hidden Feelings, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of sex (but none taking place in the fic), Platonic Love, References to Drugs, Smalltime criminals, Swearing, Tough guys, UST, Unable to communicate, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, in the closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:31:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2009295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonattsaga/pseuds/gonattsaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, more often than Peter really likes to admit, Arne takes care of him. It's a balance act. And that might be why they fit so well together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Makeshift

"Sometimes I feel like you and I are the only grown-ups out of the four of us", Torkild once said to him.  
  
Peter had chuckled and nodded like he knew exactly what he meant, and in a way he did but he only half-agreed with him. Yeah, Arne and Stefan could be childish at times, _most times_ , and some would say they were the children in this makeshift family, even now fifteen years later, both thirty-five and going on middle-aged. But it's not as simple as that.  
  
Peter knows better than anyone just how grown-up Arne can be, not often but it happens. He might act like a big kid most of the time and he might be emotionally immature, but part of him, the part that had to grow up way too quickly and much too soon, that part is more mature than Peter will ever be. And even though Arne really needs someone to take care of him, Peter doesn't always have to be the strong one. Sometimes, more often than Peter really likes to admit, Arne takes care of him. It's a balance act. And that might be why they fit so well together, Peter thinks.  
  
They all take care of each other of course, and maybe the three of them always took a little extra care of Stefan, at least they had done before he took up with that girl. Now she takes care of him, _at least she better be_ , Peter thinks. But the point is, no-one is left out and none of them have to be strong all the time. They all try to be, of course. It's always easier to take care than be taken care of, because everyone likes to be seen as strong. But under all the rough, they all remember each other as they were, that day at the train station. They remember where they've come from, who they were and in part still are. That's just the kind of makeshift family they are. And Torkild who doesn't know better might think that Arne, as well as Stefan, are the children. Maybe he thinks of himself and Peter as the parental figures. For a moment Peter allows himself to wonder what that says about Torkild's view of his and Peter's relationship, if he might be jealous if he ever found out about Arne and him.  
  
 _But that's completely ridiculous of course_ , Peter thinks then. Besides, he's never going to know. _No-one is_. That's the unspoken agreement he has with Arne ever since this thing between them started. He thinks they both probably thought it was going to be one-off thing at first, and later on they probably just figured it was a temporary fling to see them through their teens and into their twenties, just until they got around to dating other people and got themselves proper partners. He would have got a boyfriend probably, he never had a problem with liking other guys, unlike Arne who's never really warmed up to the idea. He'd probably have become a notorious womanizer in the closet, because _he's not a fucking homo_ apparently. Peter can't even be bothered to deal with that jar, so he never says anything.  
  
They never did get around to dating other people though. Things kept getting in the way. Contracts, deals, drugs, the occasional attempt at a proper job, house break-ins and robberies, and of course birthdays and flat huntings and other normal type stuff as well, and then there was Stefan to look out for, before he met that Hanne girl, and anyway, neither of them saw any reason to stop just because they probably should. So they didn't. And as long as it doesn't interfere with the job or affect their friendship, they just keep going.  
  
Now he's thirty-six, Arne just turned thirty-five, and Torkild who is the first of them to hit the forty mark is talking about wanting something more out of life, like a family, a _real_ family, and the thought terrifies Peter but at the same time he knows where Torkild is coming from. He feels something similar. He wants something more too. Because as much as he tries to deny it, something is definitely missing. It's like a dull ache in his gut that just keeps growing stronger. He wants to be close to someone, _maybe Arne_ , not just fucking but holding and kissing and falling asleep together, that type of closeness, _not Arne then, never going to happen, the stupid idiot is too scared of that stuff_ , but Peter wants it now. He didn't before, like Arne he wanted the carefree, casual option, he wanted to pretend to be free and heartless. But now he wants to wake up next to someone, have breakfast together, normal stuff, _love_.  
  
Yeah, that's it. He wants love. The real kind, the kind people write songs about, the kind that shows. And he wants it with someone who's not too afraid to let it. _So yeah, not Arne._ If he's honest with himself, he knows it probably never will be Arne. _So maybe they should end this thing after all. Make room for other people. The type of people who would be good for them._  
  
But at the same time, the thought of ending things with Arne makes the ache grow stronger, Peter realises. _Maybe I'm in love after all._  
  
"Hey..." Arne's voice drags him out of his thoughts.  
  
He's leaning in through the doorway. His eyes are wary and body taut with tenson, as always. But he's also excited, and trying not to show it.  
  
"Hey", Peter replies. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Yep!"  
  
Arne has been excited about this night and Torkild's birthday party for weeks, and especially about their gift for him. Peter knows he can barely wait for Torkild to open it, to see the look on his face and to demonstrate how it works. Apparently _it's the most intense shooting experience you can have_. Peter just hopes he doesn't actually fire it at the party.  
  
"An _AK-47_ , man. Torkild is going to shit himself! If he doesn't, I don't know what, man!" Arne says as they climb into the car, and not for the first time, but Peter is kind enough not to point it out to him and ruin his good mood.  
  
He wonders if he should get Arne an AK-47 of his own for Christmas. The thought of Arne's reaction makes something stir inside of him, and he has to look away to hide a smile. He thinks back to the other man's birthday and the look on his face when he unwrapped his _Desert Eagle_ , and he thinks of the thank you-kiss he got once Arne had processed what had happened, what he held in his hands, he thinks of the _force_ of that kiss, how it completely winded him.  
  
They fucked right then and there. Arne had devoured him like he'd been starving for it and Peter had come in three seconds flat, which should be embarrassing except he managed to get Arne off in less than that and he only used his hand. And he'd sucked on his neck like some eager teenager. _Left a mark that wouldn't fade for days._  
  
Peter squirms a little in his seat, a hint of arousal beginning to stir. In his peripheral he catches the tiny movement of Arne glancing at him, then quickly looking away again. He pretends not to have noticed, but adjusts himself a little more obviously, not because he really needs to but because he wants to tease the other man.  
  
"You got enough coke?" Arne asks voice deceptively casual.  
  
"White Henning will be at the party", Peter replies, just as casual.  
  
"Yeah okay..."  
  
Peter turns his head away again and smiles at the side window. He loves to push Arne's buttons, just to see the war of emotions in his face, _lust_ and _want_ and _frustration_ and _insecurity_ , all muddled together beautifully. Part of him wants to test him even further and palm himself through his trousers, but he stops himself. They don't have time to do anything now, and even if they did, Arne never would, not in public, _not even in daylight_ , so it would only result in him making himself frustrated.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Arne mutters after a while.  
  
"What to get you for Christmas", Peter says honestly.  
  
He glances over at the other man and catches the blush on his face. He doesn't say anything though. Just frowns at the windscreen, cheeks rosy and mouth pouty. Peter smiles again, and doesn't hide it this time.  
  
"What do you want?" He asks, casually, nicely.  
  
"Peter, man, it's fucking April, okay."  
  
"Yeah, I know", Peter says. "I just want to be prepared."  
  
Arne mutters something under his breath that Peter can't make out, but he thinks he can guess the gist of it.  
  
"Can I crash at your place later?" Arne asks after another few moments of tense silence, his voice gruff and testy.  
  
"Why?" Peter asks because he's an arsehole and he really does love to tease Arne.  
  
"Might as well", Arne says. "We'll both be too wasted to drive, so we'll need to take a taxi anyway, so we might as well share."  
  
"Yeah..." Peter agrees slowly, like it makes sense. "But we live on the same block."  
  
Arne doesn't say anything to that, and when Peter chances another look at him, he catches him scowling at the road in front of them.  
  
"But if you want to come over", Peter adds, _pushing it_ , pushing _Arne_. "Then that's a whole different matter isn't it..."  
  
"Shut up, man", Arne mutters.  
  
"You can spend the night whenever you want", Peter says surprisingly earnest suddenly, without meaning to.  
  
Arne is definitely scowling now. Peter's stomach sinks a little, he feels uneasy for some reason. _I crossed a line_ , he thinks. He doesn't care that he might have pushed Arne a bit too far, the only consequence that will have is that he won't get off tonight and that's okay because he's going to get so coked up he probably won't get it up anyway, but he crossed a line of his own.  
  
"I said shut up, man!" Arne grouses.  
  
But Peter doesn't care, he stares out the side window and tries to ignore the tight feeling in his chest.  
  
"Hey", Arne murmurs after a couple tense minutes of silence, meaning _sorry_.  
  
"What", Peter mumbles, thinking that's the end of it, but Arne actually tries to continue: "I..."  
  
He trails off immediately and sighs, it's a frustrated noise and Peter knows what he's trying to do, but he can't deal with it right now.  
  
"Yeah, I'll probably get too coked up to do anything tonight", he says before Arne can even try and say anything else. "I'll probably just crash..."  
  
"Okay", Arne replies quietly, a couple of seconds too late and there's a small quality to his voice, he sounds lost almost, _and sorry_ , and Peter _really_ can't deal with it now.  
  
"For fuck's sake, man", he says, a little harsher than he'd intended, but he doesn't feel bad about it or anything.  
  
"I just said _'okay'_ , okay!"  
  
"Just relax and try and have a good time tonight", Peter says. "Okay? We're alright. Just... Leave it. We're fine."  
  
"I didn't say anything, man..." Arne mutters and sounds like a petulant child, looks like it too, pouting and frowning.  
  
Peter rolls his eyes and scoffs, chuckles almost.  
  
"What!" Arne snaps.  
  
"Nothing. Just leave it."  
  
It takes Arne three beers and half a joint to work up the courage to resume their non-conversation, and by that point Peter is riding the high of five lines spread out over the span of two hours _and he feels reckless_. So when Arne steps up close to him to talk, quietly and discretely, _something about not knowing about some shit_ , _no,_ this _shit, whatever_ this _means_ , Peter doesn't really listen, he just grabs Arne's head, as if to kiss him except Arne immediately jerks back. He stares wide-eyed at Peter and swears, almost on auto-pilot, there's no sting in it.  
  
But coming to his senses, he glares at Peter, _What the fuck are you doing,_ and there's a sad glint in his eyes like he actually wanted Peter to kiss him but hadn't dared to let it happen. Peter scoff-chuckles again, it might come off as bitter.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry", he says. "I thought that's what you came over here for..."  
  
He giggles a little, for effect, but his throat is too dry and he doesn't really feel all that happy anyway. He brushes past Arne and walks towards the toilets, except Arne grabs his shoulder and pulls. Peter stumbles back and turns back around, glares a little because _What the hell?_  
  
Arne is really close. He's holding him. Peter thinks this must be a hallucination or a dream of something, but the he realises that Arne is not holding him so much as holding him _up_. Maybe Peter was closer to falling than he'd realised, and maybe Arne had caught him.  
  
"Fine", he mutters and gets his legs under him. "Let's hear it then..."  
  
Arne reluctantly let's go of him and shoves his fists in his pockets.  
  
"What you said in the car..."  
  
"Yeah, I know", Peter says, slightly out of breath for some reason. "Look, just relax okay. I was just teasing... Okay?"  
  
"Yeah okay", Arne echoes, and it sounds a little empty.  
  
He looks up and meets Peter's gaze. _Sulking again. Shouldn't be a turn-on_ , Peter thinks. _It kind of is though_. He puts his hand on the back of Arne's neck and the other man's eyes widen again, _panic, hope, no of course not_ hope _, panic_ , but Peter doesn't pull him closer, just squeezes his neck a little. And smiles.  
  
"Just relax already, I'm not fucking in love with you, okay?"  
  
Arne gives him a pinched smile back.  
  
"Yeah, I know", he says immediately and it's not until the next day that Peter realises how resigned his voice had been, how sad his eyes were.  
  
Of course when he tries to bring it up later Arne just tells him to shut up, or fuck off, and after a while he just drops it.  
  
They don't get each other off again after that. They don't even touch, not until after Peter has been shot and Arne lets him lean on him as they trek through the Jylland wilderness. It's caring, in the most platonic way imaginable and if the pain from Peter's injury and early stages of withdrawal wasn't so completely, mind-numbingly _consuming_ he'd probably feel his heart break a little. _But as it turns out, bullet wounds hurt more._

 

The end


End file.
